


Tales from Sin City

by oldandnewfirm



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Mafia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5298824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldandnewfirm/pseuds/oldandnewfirm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes and one-shots set in the Undertale Mafia AU. Mostly gen, though a ship or two may crop up later, in passing if nothing else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales from Sin City

**Author's Note:**

> Saw some fanart for an Undertale mafia AU on tumblr and thought of this. It will be the first of a few shorts, I think, which will be written as the inspiration strikes.

Sans took a drag of his cigar. The sound of his breath, faint as it was, seemed deafening in the stillness of the wood. Autumn had crept in and begun its work, stealing the breeze, the din of insects, and even the rustle of the night things that usually lurked around these parts. He exhaled deeply. As he watched the smoke climb towards the patches of moon visible through the thinning treetops, he spoke.

“If a guy screams in a forest and no one is around to hear it, was it worth the effort?”

“Mfrgshmurma,” came the reply.

He looked down. Wide, pleading eyes looked back at him from several feet away. He chuckled.

“Guess you can’t answer. Hold on, let me—”

He twitched a finger, and the bound-and-gagged man lying on the forest floor was free of at least one impediment. Sans fancied he could hear the guy’s brain stutter while trying to process this new reality. Sadly, that didn’t last as long as he would have liked.

“Sans, tell Asgore I’ll make it up to him. I’ve got a shipment coming in next week. As soon as I turn that around I can pay him back _three times_ what I owe him!”

“What, by stealing from that guy, too?” He held his cigar aside to let some ash fall onto the ground. “Digging one grave for yourself isn’t enough, Varney?”

“No, no, it’s not like that, you gotta believe me--”

Sans held up a hand. The torrent of words petered out. “You know pal, I almost feel bad for you. It takes a lot to push the big guy to this; he _hates_ violence. Thinks it’s distasteful, wants to run the business ‘the honest way.’ Or, y’know, as honest as you can be when you run a criminal empire. But you…” he waggled a finger. “You had to take advantage, didn’t you? And now, here we are.”

He slid his pistol out of its holster. Its magic pulsing against his phalanges felt like a greeting from an old friend. He smiled— well, he was _always_ smiling— but this was the sort of smile that he really felt in his bones, one that made his back straighten, turned his steps spry. Leaves crunched beneath his spats as ambled towards Varney, who jerked as if each step was a body blow.

“Here’s the thing, bud,” Sans continued, “the boss can afford to be nice, but not _soft._ That’s not how this game works. Not if you want to keep playing, anyway.” Judging himself to be at the right distance, he stopped walking and tilted his head. “I guess no one told you that being _stupid_ is a surefire way to lose, too.”

“S-Sans. Please. I know you. I bought you a drink at Grillby’s last week!” The statement seemed addressed to the gun that was now leveled at his head rather than to Sans himself. Varney swallowed thickly, then in a weak voice added, “Don’t do this.”

“You never answered my question, you know.”

At last Varney tore his eyes from the weapon to meet Sans’. Confusion seeped into the edges of his terror.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Sans said with a shrug. Then, the lights of his pupils winked out. **“I already know what it is."**

There was shot. A cry ended almost before it began.

But nobody came.

 


End file.
